Charmed: The Next Chapter
by TheForgottenMCRmy
Summary: Chris Halliwell has everything he could have ever asked for: supporting parents, a quick-witted younger sister, and an older brother who does not want to take over the world. Still, he feels as if something is missing. Could it be love? But how could he miss something he never had? ... And why does Melinda's new whitelighter seem so... familiar? ( Chris/OC )
1. Prelude

**A/N: This is post-Forever Charmed. It's mostly going to be about Piper and Leo's children (mainly Chris), but Paige and Phoebe's children will make appearances as well. In this story, Wyatt is 25/26 years old, Chris is 23 years old, and Melinda is 20/21 years old. FIRST ATTEMPT AT CHARMED FANFICTION, so please be nice. O.o**

******** This is a prologue. It is SUPPOSED to be confusing.**

* * *

Chris Halliwell sat on the cool metal as a welcoming calm breeze blew through his hair.

Cars rushed along the road a couple hundred feet or so below him, interrupting what would have been silence. Chris stood, and began to slowly pace back and forth, contemplating his next plan of action.

A new swoosh of wind and orbs of light alerted him of another presence. "Chris."

Chris turned to face his elder brother, Wyatt.

"You can't do this to yourself," Wyatt told him sternly. "It's not your fault. Blaming yourself will not solve anything."

"It's kinda hard not to feel guilty, isn't it?" Chris countered, failing to hide the remorse in his voice.

Wyatt sighed. "Come back, Chris. Melinda won't speak to anyone, and Mom's scared out of her mind that you'll do something rash. All Dad can do is comfort them. Aunt Phoebe and Paige have already called multiple times. Come home," Wyatt pleaded. "Our family needs you."

Chris remained silent.

"Fine, don't come back, but I only hope you can live with being the reason our heritage falls apart," Wyatt added harshly.

Still, Chris did not speak a word. Maybe it was because he couldn't think of something to say, or maybe it was because of the hypocrisy of his brother's statement.

Wyatt sighed again, putting a hand wearily over his eyes. He let his arm fall back down to his side after a moment, and walked closer to Chris. "I understand that it's hard on you- it's been hard for all of us. But it's been weeks… It's over. Destiny _is_ destiny. We can't change it, no matter how hard we try."

Chris scoffed. "Nothing's over until there is no one left to fight for it."

"And you _have_ Chris… But time has taken its toll. What's done is done," Wyatt reasoned.

"Well excuse me if I refuse to believe such a ridiculous thing," Chris snapped, losing his temper.

A third figure orbed into the scene, dressed in a white and gold robe.

Both brothers turned to glare at the newcomer, but after realization, their anger quickly faded.

The elder, whom Wyatt and Chris recalled as Sandra, held up her hands in defense. She appeared to be very distressed and was slightly panting. "It is just me," she spoke carefully. "I bring news, but I don't have much time."

"What is it?" Wyatt questioned, as Chris listened intently.

"The other elder's have assessed the situation, but they were equally divided on the verdict."

"Were?" Chris asked.

"Were," Sandra confirmed. "There is another elder who betrayed us. He flew into a rage after the vote was finally in your favor, revealing his true identity to us. We had suspicious that there was a traitor among us, but until now we had no proof. He started attacking us, causing the other elders and I to flee. He mentioned something about harvesting the Charmed ones' power-"

"-Of course-" Chris interjected bitterly.

"-but I was not able to understand much of his shouting."

"Who?" Wyatt asked.

"I cannot say; it will put you in danger."

"We have to know, so we can stop him," Chris argued.

Sandra paused to study him carefully for a moment. "You are missed," she commented plainly.

"… Where is she?" Chris asked, his voice growing strangely soft and quiet.

"She's safe," Sandra promised, "for now, at least. All I know is that there is little time. He plans to erase the world's memory of this event, including all the elders and the Charmed ones, save himself."

Wyatt's brows furrowed in concentration and concern. "We have to do something."

"You're right," Sandra agreed. "I suggest you return to the manor as soon as possible and write what I'm telling you down, so even when your memory is erased you'll be able to solve this."

"That'll take too long!" Chris protested.

"Yeah," Wyatt agreed. "Just tell us who you're talking about and we'll-"

In a blink of an eye, a bright light flashed over the earth, causing the three to shield their eyes. A moment later, they carefully opened their eyes, and briefly looked at their surroundings.

"… What was that?" Chris asked curiously.

"No idea," Wyatt replied, checking to make sure he actually was where he thought he was. Shaking his head clear of thoughts, he noted Sandra's presence. "Sandra," he nodded in polite greeting.

Sandra seemed slightly surprised as well, but nodded back as well. "Wyatt… Chris. I feel as if there was something I was supposed to inform you about. Hm… Anyways, how is your family?"

"They're fine," Wyatt replied with a smile.

"Well…" Sandra stated awkwardly, "I suppose I best be going, then. Do say hello to your parents for me, will you?"

Wyatt nodded as she orbed back up to the heavens. "So," he turned to his brother, "You coming home anytime soon? Mom made spaghetti."

Chris contemplated for a moment, and then smiled. He _did_ love his mom's spaghetti. "Sure," he replied, and they both orbed home.

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**Should I continue? (Feedback is welcome) :)**


	2. The Transition

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites everyone! :) It is MUCH easier to be encouraged to write when you guys give me feedback. Well; here's the next chapter. The chapter following this is typed up, but will have to undergo some major editing. :P But, like mentioned before, feedback always helps. :) Okay, I'll quit bugging you now.  
Enjoy.  
**

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_**Unknown P.O.V.**_

Everything is in slow motion- and in reality, you're speechless. You can only guess what's going on based by your senses, nothing is definite.

_Slowly, you feel something foreign hit you at an amazing speed, and then you feel you're body reacting to the intruding object. You can't feel yourself hit the ground, but based on sounds, and your 1 foot above the floor eyesight, you put the pieces together._

_Then it hits you- you are no more; this is it. The final showdown and you're on the losing side. Tragic, isn't it?_

"Cassie!_" a distressed call rings out. It is unclear, almost hazy to your deafening ears. Still, you want to reply. But you've lost your voice; deep down inside your soul, your voice is muted. You want to answer, to say something to that person who's worried about you. You want to tell them to move on, that you'll be okay in the end, and that you'll wait for them, yet you can't find the will to speak._

_And then darkness comes._

* * *

The pain was blinding- like I was almost being ripped apart. Then, suddenly, my body seemed to be stitched back together in the most surreal way.

I was standing, in the same place I'd been when I'd died, and no one was visibly present. I felt horrified in a way… I felt _his_ presence. Dread instantly filled me. _This wasn't supposed to end this way._ Not when things were just getting better. I looked around. No life seemed to be present, at all. If I shouted something, it probably would have echoed for several miles.

I heard a shuffling noise behind me, and jumped slightly.

I turned around, to see a mystical, glowing figure, in golden robes. Her face was one whom I did not recognize. I didn't know it at that precise moment, but the woman before me would become my closest acquaintance in the lonely years that followed.

"You've been chosen to work for the Greater Good."

_Great._

* * *

The mind works in funny ways.

It tends to always have an opinion against your heart, no matter what the topic. Sort of like a stubborn child, desperate to be right and prove a point. What fuels us to make the thoughts and ideas that we do is unknown, and will probably remain that way. For one to find it would be like someone trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Where I got the idea that I could go through with this decision and be okay with the result in the end, I'll never understand.

* * *

The people, who refer to themselves as _Elders _and are the only beings I've seen since my untimely demise, assure me that the memory-erasing progress has already gone underway, and soon I will recall nothing of my old life. I can't exactly specify what it is that I want to remember at this point, may it be family or friends, but I hate it.

I hate to think that these people can take away what is my own. I've already agreed to work for them for the rest of my existence until the end of the world, but it is not enough in their eyes. They do not trust me, I can tell, for something that I did that I cannot recall.

I often find myself thinking that I must have done something terrible, in my old life, the life that I love dearly but will soon know nothing about. Sometimes, I regret my decision to become what the Elders call a 'whitelighter'. Needless to say, I was not informed that by choosing to work for the Elders that my mind would become a clean, empty slate. And sometimes, though I do not voice this aloud, I wonder if facing Death would have been easier.

_You've done something horrible; the Elders want to punish you for it. This is why they are erasing your mind. They are taking away the sense of _you. _They want you to be a lesson for others to learn from, so that they do not make whatever mistakes that you have made._

I hope others learn from my mistakes, whatever they may be. I also dare to hope that no one else will be offered what I have been offered. But in these few short hours of my new life, I have already seen others that are who I will soon become- the other whitelighters. I know I will soon be forced to accept the fact others like myself will come to be.

For now, I flip through memories, as if my mind is a book, and pray that my recollection of my old life will somehow be spared.

* * *

I no longer remember names. Only faces.

I do, however, still recall how these faces I see in my mind impacted my previous life. I see several men, who all look very similar and I can acknowledge confidentially that these men are... _were _my brothers.

I can also envision a couple, whom I've come to recognize as my parents. They seem happy, which is strange for me to accept- the world that I have recently left behind was nothing to rejoice about. In the end, I conclude that what I am seeing may be my distant past. _Very _distant past.

During my conclusion, I am horrified to realize that this couple I see is from a very long time ago, for I can only place a woman in a mere handful of memories. I soon conclude that she died very early in my life. The man, though I can see him more often than the woman, could not be placed in as many memories as my brothers.

* * *

It pains me greatly that I cannot remember _his _name. But I can see His face in my mind, and when I do, it causes me to smile. In my process of recollection, I smile so much that a certain Elder, one who has introduced herself to me as Sandra, asks what I'm thinking about, and seems to care in an honest and genuine way. I politely refuse to tell her, as I am refusing to trust any of the Elders currently, even though she seems to be kinder than some of the others.

I could never forget _his _face. Well, at least, I'd like to think I could never. These Elders have certain ways of accomplishing what they wish to be done. Though I lament that I cannot place a name with His face, I accept that His face does not need a name.

He was not only my lover, but also my best friend in my old life. I remember scenes of us together, and they are the happiest of all my memories that I have left. These scenes comfort me during the Elders' process of erasing my mind.

I've wondered where this man of my memories is, and if he misses me. I can place Him at the time of my death, and can only hope that His family, whom I also remember as kind, loving souls, can offer Him comfort in my absence.

I hope to see _him_ again someday, but I know that that is a childish dream.

* * *

These people… these_ Elders_ … they protect what they call 'magic'.

I think I used to believe in magic. Sometimes I recall glimpses of my old life, the life with I had shared with _him, _and in these quick visions of what once was, I can see that I used to possess these _gifts_ of sorts. I can't remember exactly what these _gifts_ enabled me to do, but I remember here and there glimpses of my brothers and my father who assured me that my _gifts_ made me unique, and that they should always be used for the greater good. They guided me to become who I had been in my old life.

The Elders tell me that my new goal in life is to guide others as they learn to use their _gifts_. It is something I will not take lightly, as my family had not taken guiding me lightly. I want to provide others with what I had, so that maybe, the world can be in a state of peace, and not in one of turmoil like that world I'd seen in my last few years as a human.

_Magic got me into this mess. Magic can help me fix my mistakes._ I know not if these thoughts are my own, or if the Elders are programming me to think this way.

* * *

I can no longer glimpse into my old life. I no longer see images of my past, for when I try I cannot find anything to reference from. Naturally, I start to panic.

Sandra, the Elder who has spent the past hours with me, tries to comfort me by informing me that the process is almost over. This merely makes me panic more, because I will soon no longer realize that I am missing my memory of my old life.

The only thing that remains of my mind is several voices, who speak things I've heard before. Since I cannot place faces with the voices, this saddens me even more.

I can often hear a human I once I knew. Though his impact and meaning in my old life is unknown, I figure he must have been important in my life, for the voice I hear in my mind that I imagine him to own says very kind things to me, and speaks more often than any other voice I can hear.

Sandra can no longer comfort me. _I regret this decision_ and even this statement will soon be nothing more than a discarded deliberation.

* * *

Life is new.

I know little. People hooded in golden cloaks introduce themselves to me as '_Elders'._ One of them, a woman, approaches me, and introduces herself as Sandra. I smile, and am about to introduce myself, when I freeze. _Who am I?_

Sandra seems to have read my thoughts. "Your name is Cassandra Gates, though you prefer to be called Cassie. Is this correct?"

I think it over. _Yes, Cassandra sounds too formal for my tastes._ "Yes."

The woman smiled genuinely. "Well, Cassie Gates, you are here to serve the Greater Good."

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**Feedback is welcome. :)**


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